


Aftermath

by Aviss



Series: In the North - scenes not shown [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Spoilers, episode s804
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 03:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18769867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: He doesn't die in King's Landing, and nobody is more surprised than Jaime himself.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to Left Behind, hopefully I can finish the last bit before Sunday.

He doesn't die in King's Landing, and nobody is more surprised than Jaime himself.

He looks around at the devastation wrought to the city by two women, one mad with power and the other with grief, and wonders what's going to become of him now. He's fulfilled his purpose, led the Northern armies in the infiltration that allowed them to take the city with the least amount of casualties, and somehow survived long enough to help Grey Worm and the Hound kill Gregor Clegane. 

Cersei died at the hands of Daenerys and Daenerys at the hands of Euron, and Jaime had the pleasure of killing that arrogant cunt himself, something he has wanted to do since the first time he laid eyes on him.

But he wasn't supposed to survive this, and now Jaime doesn't know what to do.

"Go back to your woman," Tyrion says while they share a glass of wine. There isn't much celebrating going around this time, the people of King's Landing too used to the death of kings and queens these days. As long as they have enough food for their table and clothes to cover themselves, what do they care who sits on the throne? "Why are you still here when you have her waiting for you?"

Jaime flinches, her tear stained face coming to the front of his mind, not that it's been away from it for long. It has been his travelling companion, unable to think of anything else but her face as he broke her heart. He wasn't even lying when he did it, he really is a hateful man.

Tyrion doesn't miss the gesture and narrows his eyes at him. "What did you do?"

"What I thought necessary," he admits with a sigh, taking a drink from his own cup. 

"You just left her without telling her anything, stealing away in the night?" Tyrion asks because he knows his brother well enough.

He can't help the bitter laugh at that. If only. "No, I did something much worse, I told her I was going back to Cersei."

The look Tyrion gives him speaks volumes. "Why would you do that?"

Jaime hangs his head. "I wasn't supposed to survive this war." Bran had told him as much. "I wanted her to have a future without me, even if she hated me for it."

He feels more than sees Tyrion's incredulous look, " _You idiot_ ," his brother says disgustedly. "What future? Did you by any chance marry her before leaving?"

Jaime lifts his head at that. "What?"

"I'm assuming you didn't, because you are an idiot who doesn't think of the consequences of his actions, and because you hate yourself enough to ruin the best chance at happiness you will ever have, and her life in the process."

Tyrion's words give him pause; he does hate himself, how could he not considering everything he has done in the past. For a time, while they were in Winterfell and he laid in Brienne's arms at night, he had forgotten to hate himself. It didn't last, because reality has a way of intruding in their little bubble and she deserves much better than him.

"What are you talking about? She will move on," he finally says, and Tyrion's scowl deepens.

"She might, but will the rest of the world?" Tyrion says, and Jaime feels his gut clench, dreading whatever he's going to say next. "You might see her as a Knight, with her honour on her blade and her oaths, but to the rest of the world, she's a Lady, an unmarried highborn lady who took a lover, and the Kingslayer at that, in view of the entire North. Nobody said anything because it was clear you loved her, and she loved you, and you would do the honourable thing and marry her as soon as the war was over. And now that you've dishonoured and left her, what future do you think awaits Brienne, no longer Maid of Tarth?"

Suddenly Jaime can't breathe, remembering Bran's words. _The heir of Tarth._ It was for them that he did it, that he came all the way south to throw his life away, that he hurt Brienne so cruelly that she would finally turn her back on him and carry on with her life. But bastards are rarely heirs, and though he knows King Jon will legitimize any son of Brienne, the stigma of being the Kingslayer's lover, _his whore_ , will follow them all the way from the north. He had not thought about it, too worried about saving her life to think about her honour. 

He really is the stupidest Lannister. 

"She begged me not to leave her," he chokes out, remembering that night, her hands on his face burning like a brand. Mounting that horse and leaving her behind is the hardest thing he's ever done. 

"And now you're going to beg her to take you back."

"It's not that simple."

"Yes, it is," Tyrion insists, slamming his cup on the table. "You were happy with her, you're miserable now. You've been an idiot, but she's a smart woman and if you talk to her, she might give you another chance."

"She's smart enough not to want me back, you don't know what I told her. And she's with child." Jaime admits, miserably, because whatever else he believes, he believes that Bran didn't lie on that. 

Tyrion stares at him for an instant, speechless. "You sail for Tarth in the morning," he finally says, his tone brooking no argument. "That's where she'll go now the war is over and the Starks are safe. You have no friends in Winterfell, fewer now than you had before, but you can still do right by her. Go to Tarth, beg for forgiveness and restore her honour."

He wants that so much he can almost taste it. Brienne, with her short hair whipped by the sea breeze and her smiling lips chapped and salty, a small child with her beautiful eyes and golden hair in her arms. He wants to see his beautiful lady Knight smiling at him again like she did when he knighted her, not crying as he broke her heart. But he has no right to it, now even less than before. "And after she's rejected me as she should, what then?"

"You stay and you keep begging," Tyrion says, adamant. "And if she still says no, you offer to marry her anyway so she doesn't raise a bastard, and then leave her alone if that's what she wants."

Like it's that easy, like leaving the first time hasn't hollowed him in a way not even being separated from Cersei has done before. But Tyrion's right, he needs to at least try, for Brienne. And if the only thing she ever accepts from him is a fake marriage just to repair her reputation, a mummery of what he wants the most, then that's what he'll give her. 

It's the least he can do.

He has time to think on the trip to Tarth with nothing to occupy his hours but the contemplation of his idiocy. He had forgotten how cruel people can be towards those who refuse to fit their mould, and Brienne is a perfect example of that, stronger than most men and more honourable than any of them. He thinks about her face on the night of the fest, how she laughed and smiled, free and inebriated while they played that silly game. He thinks of her soft smiles in the morning, awakening to find him in her bed, most of the time staring at her while she slept. They had shared everything for a few weeks, the kind of bliss Jaime had always believed to be beyond his reach, and then he had shattered it. 

He learned to lie with the truth next to Cersei and had used his words as weapons against which Brienne had no defence; he had thought to give her a clean break and had only managed to hurt her worse than anyone else before. 

Will she still believe he's a good man after this?

They see the island on the fourth day, and it looks even more beautiful than when he saw it last, untouched by wars and winter, this far south the blue of the waters surrounding it is rivalled by the lush green covering the island. There's a chill in the air, but nothing like the frigid winds in the north and Jaime finds the cold breeze and briny smell almost calming after the filth of King's Landing.

There's a big man waiting at the pier when Jaime finally disembarks, and he doesn't need any kind of introduction to recognise Selwyn Tarth, Brienne's father. As terrifying as his presence by the docks is, bedecked as he is in Tarth's regalia with the suns and moons adorning his doublet and cloak, Jaime still has a moment to think that Selwyn's eyes are as blue as his daughter's, if not as beautiful and innocent. He's every bit as tall and broad as Brienne, clean shaved and grey at the temples, face showing laugh lines and the weathered skin of someone who spends lots of time outdoors.

"Ser Jaime Lannister," Selwyn Tarth says when Jaime approaches him, his tone as mild as his expression, enough that Jaime doesn't see the hit coming until he's flat on his back on the ground with the man towering over him and his jaw bruised. 

Jaime blinks up to him, still too stunned to do anything but gape like a fish, and doesn't react to the hand in front of his face for a long minute. He clasps the big hand in his and lets Selwyn pull him to his feet. 

"I received a raven from the Hand of the King telling me of your arrival today and requesting that I don't kill you on sight," he says and Jaime doesn't have it in him to be surprised that his brother kept meddling in this. "My daughter also wrote to me with a similar request," he continues, and at that Jaime starts and turns shocked eyes on the man. "She's sailing from White Harbour, and will be with us in a few days, and wants me to relay a message." Selwyn starts walking and Jaime has no choice but to follow him needing to know what Brienne has to say to him through her father and how did she know he'd go to Tarth.

"A message?" he parrots like the idiot he is, wrong-footed and flustered and terrified that he will see her again so soon. 

"She wants you to know Bran told her what you would not, and that he sees lots of grovelling in your future," he says, his eyes hard on Jaime, and he should feel intimidated because Selwyn is a terrifying man but he can only feel elated. Bran spoke to Brienne, told her where Jaime would be and she's sailing for Tarth. Jaime knows he doesn't deserve a second chance but by the gods, he wants it, and he's not enough of a good man not to take it if she gives it to him. If begging is what he needs to do, he'll do it every day for the rest of their lives. 

If her father doesn't kill him first.

As if he can read his mind, Selwyn smiles at him, razor sharp and full of teeth. "Start practising now and you might yet live to meet your child."

...


End file.
